First he had to get past former Boston Athletic Association director Will Cloney, who was positioned at the entrance. "He stood in the way," [Jock Semple] recalls 20 years later. "The year before, I had to tackle a guy running with fins on his feet. He was making a mockery of the race. He just came out to run with the leaders. A sergeant came on the bus and was going to arrest me. The next day, Tom Fitzgerald (the late Globe writer) called up the chief of police in Framingham and said, 'If I was in Semple's place, I would have done the same thing.' From then on, Will stood in the well of the bus so I couldn't get out."

The series of wire service photographs that were transmitted around the world and still adorn the walls of the Back Bay's Eliot Lounge are largely those of Semple trying to remove [K. Switzer]'s number and of the body block thrown by boyfriend and hammer thrower Tom Miller. What is forgotten is that Cloney led the charge. "He chased first and I followed him," says Semple. "He was too slow.

There were two of us who caught up with No. 261 following her race as she was wrapped in a blanket, shivering. She was whisked away in a waiting car, and we all passed into a page of history. Sales, who jumped off the bus to try to phone the Globe desk with the news but was slower than either Cloney or Semple, now is executive sports editor of the Boston Herald. Switzer is a television commentator on marathons. I am heading to the starting line again for what should be a less eventful bus trip to the finish line, and, most important, Jock is still our beloved Jock. REMH1 ;04/03 CORCOR;04/06,20:33 SWITZER0

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